


You Have The Worst Timing, Barry Allen

by writers_blocc



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Sexy Times, Short Drabble, awkward times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6620452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writers_blocc/pseuds/writers_blocc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry has to pee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Have The Worst Timing, Barry Allen

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not exactly sure how this came to be, and I should really be in bed right now - but West/Allen, y'know?

Iris was positively electric. Every hair on her body – every nerve was set on edge. She was there – Jesus f’n Christ was she there. “huhhnn,” she bites down on her lip. Barry drags his over hers, pulling her bottom lip between his own to draw out the moan she was trying so desperately to keep locked inside. 

“Let me hear you,” he breaths, twirling his hips in slow circles - bringing the friction of his pelvis in direct contact with the bundle of nerves that set her whole body aflame.

“Shi – ohhh f-.”

He sucks at her lip, eliciting a moan of his own. God she was so tight and wet and if he could spend the rest of his life doing just this, loving her just like this; he swore to God he would die a happy man. Barry gave one more good tug before kissing her fully on the mouth and sitting himself upright. 

He titled forward just a bit, and oh – there. Right there. He was deeper now, and her legs were draped over his arms and he pushed his hips forward.

“Yes.” She hisses, oh goodness yes. Iris is climbing the metaphorical mountain high and higher, body trembling, ready to make her crash landing when;

“Shit.” Barry stills. 

And that’s the last thing Iris wants. She wants him to keep fucking her like his life depends on it. She can feel him pulsing inside of her. She knows he wants to too. So why in the hell is he stopping?

Iris tares her eyes open to stare up at her boyfriend of three months. “Barry?”

He’s mumbling to himself. It looks like he’s trying to talk himself through it, and when she squeezes around him, she can feel him shudder and pulse harder inside of her – and his rambling speeds up. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” 

No. no – why is he pulling out?

“Sorry. Sorry.” Any other time his thick shaft is being leisurely dragged out of her or sliding in, it feels downright amazing. Iris would say it was rated as one of her favorite feelings in the world – right behind the way Barry looks at her like she’s a gift he’s unwrapping for the first time on Christmas morning. 

But being right on the brink of climax – is neither the time nor place.

“I – I,” he’s climbing out the bed. “Gotta pee.” She watches as he scrambles from the sheets and trudges to the bathroom, holding himself at his base as he kicks the door open. 

“What?” She’s not sure if she’s hearing him right. All she can see is his taut ass hurrying out of the room.

“I gotta pee!”

And what the fudging hell. “Barry Henry fucking Allen, are you kidding me!”

He wishes he was, but as he stands in front of the toilet with an urge crawling up his shaft he is forced to realize that this is real life. A life where he has to stop in the middle of sex to drain his bladder. F him. F his bladder and F this shit.

Now if only he could go.

He slaps his hand against the wall, his other hand lifts himself up to aim at the porcelain throne. The lower pit of his stomach kicks as he pushes, and oh – wrong sensation. 

“What’s taking so long?” Iris hates the fact that she sounds needy – or whiny – but you don’t just tease a woman with an orgasm and rip it away in the same stroke. (No pun intended).

Barry tilts his head back, and peeks out the bathroom door into the bedroom. “Sorry it’s just,” he looks down at his swollen member. “Hard.”

He swears he can hear her giggling.

Oh fuck this – he lowers the lid on the seat and sits down, stuffing himself inside. Maybe if he just –

“What are you doing?”

Barry looks up to find Iris, naked as the day she was born, standing in the doorway. “You’re not making this any easier on me.” His eyes focus on the brown tips of her nipples, and they remind him of Hershey’s kisses. He’s always loved Hershey’s kisses. 

She moves closer into the bathroom, standing between his outstretched legs, she tugs on his ear and pulls his gaze up to meet her eyes. “I need you to come back to bed.”

He wants to come back to bed. He wants to finish her off and have her call his name in the way that she does right when she’s hitting her crest. _Bar-ryyyyyyy._

But, “it’s literally like directly two lanes of traffic,” and he tries once more and, “oh,” his face relaxes into a relieved smile and if the vein in his neck would’ve been present Iris could’ve sworn he’d just come. 

“You’ve got five seconds Mr. Allen or I'm starting without you.” Iris turns to walk back into the bedroom and Barry is left to watch her beautiful, plump backside sway in the dim light of their room. “Four, three…” 

Barry hops up, flushes and makes a beeline for Iris but stops mid step. He looks down at his hands, she’s definitely going to want him to wash them – she’s his girlfriend, not an animal.

“Two. Damnit Barry - two and a half…”


End file.
